I had Covid and a child with Type One.
Well, it happened. The moment I have been terrified of for the past year. I washed my hands for 20 seconds. Wore a mask. Stayed away from friends, gatherings, and unnecessary shopping. Still it happened. So how you may ask, did it happen? A coworker who was not as careful. A coworker who felt it wasn't necessary to not come into work after someone tested positive in their household. So here I am, now day four from the spare room. The first night was awful. My daughter's site failed. Her insulin mysteriously gone bad in the course of a day and a half. I woke my husband once, twice...six times. Every hour alerting him from 8 ft away, mask on, that Emily needed a site change. Followed by two boluses. Followed by a cartridge change. Followed by more boluses. Helpless. Unable to touch my own sleeping child. I had to just sit back and return to my imprisonment and watch the number on the blaring dexcom climb higher and higher. It was the worst feeling. After 6 years of being the supe